Night Mare (28 page)

“She won’t sulk long,” King Trent said. “My daughter is a creature of femalishly mercurial temperament, like my wife.” Then he did a double take. “My wife! I referred to Queen Iris!”

Humfrey elevated an eyebrow. “After a quarter century, it’s about time, Trent. You can’t live in the past forever.”

Imbri remembered how King Trent had loved his Mundane wife, not the Queen, and the sorrow this had brought to Iris.

“It may be a bit late for such a revelation, but yes, it is true. It is time to relate to the present, without renouncing the past. Iris has been worthy.” King Trent returned his attention to Imbri. “Please convey that message, Mare Imbri.”

Imbri was happy to agree. Then she turned to Humfrey. “How did the Horseman get you and Bink?” she asked the Good Magician. “You recognized him, so should have known how to stop him, and Bink is supposed to be immune from hostile magic.”

“That was perhaps part of my blunder,” Humfrey said.

“I paid so much attention to setting up my spells that I did not see him enter the tree. Suddenly he was standing there. I only had time to whisper his identity before he zapped me. Had I been alert, as I should have been, I could have had a Word of Power ready—” He shook his head, ashamed.

“When did he come?” Imbri asked.

“As I said, I was not paying attention, but I would guess very soon after you and the day horse left. He must have been lurking in hiding, waiting his chance to catch me alone. The cunning knave!”

“And Bink—how did he—?”

“Bink was not harmed by the magic,” Humfrey replied, confirming the centaur’s diagnosis. “He was only sent to a new awareness, as were the rest of us. We find our present company quite compatible. Therefore his talent was not operative.”

Except to the extent of preserving her to rescue Bink’s body, Imbri realized. The protective talent had a narrow definition of Bink’s welfare; he was in actual physical danger while he was King and in none thereafter. So it did make sense, though Xanth itself suffered. At least his banishment to the gourd had enabled his successor Arnolde to solve the riddle.

“How can I help?’ Imbri asked.

“Just what you plan,” the Zombie Master told her. “Liaison. Bear news to the wives. Perhaps we shall have useful advice on the conduct of the war. Tell whatever King is current to request our input if he desires it.”

“Or she,” Imbri sent “Queen Iris will be the next King”

The Kings exchanged glances. “We are no longer in direct touch with the situation,” Humfrey said. “Perhaps it is best to leave the matter of governance to the centaur he seems remarkably competent”

“Send my love to my mother and my wife,” Dor said sadly. He formed a wan smile. “I’ll convey the message to my father myself” he added, glancing at the sleeping Bink.

Imbri bade farewell to the five Kings and set off again for the real world.

She arrived at Castle Roogna near midnight. Some of the people were awake, some asleep. It made no practical difference; she broadcast her glad dream to all. “The Kings are all in the gourd! They are well! They send their love!”

Those who were awake crowded close; those who were asleep woke abruptly. In a moment Imbri was the center of attention. She dispensed all the messages, including King Trent’s to the Queen.

Iris seemed stricken. “He said that?” she asked, unbelieving.

“That it is time to live in the present, and you are his wife,” Imbri repeated.

“Oh, Mother!” Irene cried, going to Queen Iris and embracing her. “You have become part of the family!” It seemed a strange comment, but Imbri understood its meaning. The tragedy of Xanth was bringing its incidental benefits. Imbri retreated to the castle gardens, where she relaxed, grazed, and slept, catching up on about two days’ activity.

Tandy returned safely in the night and was reunited with her ogre husband, who had been pacing the grounds worriedly, idly tearing weed-trees out of the ground and squeezing them into balls of pressed wood. It was a nervous mannerism of his. But all seemed reasonably well for the moment.

In due course the centaur contingent landed, having made excellent time, and Imbri went to lead them in to Castle Roogna. She had thought Chem or Chet would prefer to do it, since they were centaurs, but this was not the case. Chet and Chem were magic-talented centaurs, and the conventional centaurs would not associate voluntarily with their ilk. Chet had actually visited Centaur Isle once; but though he had been treated with courtesy, he had soon gotten the underlying message and had never visited again. In certain respects the separation between magic and non-magic centaurs was greater than that between Xanth human beings and Mundanes. Thus Imbri, no centaur at all, was a better choice; she could keep the pace, she knew the way, and they didn’t care if she had magic. In fact, they held her kind in a certain muted awe, since a mare had been the dam of their species. They revered true horses, while not being unrealistic about their properties.

She met them at the beach. The centaurs used magic-propelled rafts that were seaworthy and quite stout. They certainly weren’t shy about the use of magic in its proper place. There were exactly fifty of them, all fine, healthy warriors with shining weapons and armor. Imbri wondered whether fifty were enough to handle three hundred Mundanes, however.

“We are centaurs,” their leader said proudly, as if that made the question irrelevant. He did not deign to introduce himself. The arrogance of these warriors was unconscious, and she did not allow it to disturb her. She led the contingent to Castle Roogna by nightfall.

“Thanks to the very kind and competent assistance of Ichabod and Queen Iris,” Arnolde reported, “we have located the second Mundane army. He analyzed their likely course, and her illusion can project her image briefly to almost any region of Xanth, so that she can see the enemy.” It seemed that Queen Iris was going all-out to help the Centaur King, being quite grateful to him on more than one count “The Horseman is with them, south of the Ogrefen-Ogre Fen. We do not know how he reached them so rapidly. He did have two days to travel, which would be enough for a healthy and able man who knew the route—but he must have crossed some of the wildest terrain of Xanth to get there. I checked it on Chem’s map; there are flies, dragons, goblins, griffins, and ogres, as well as virtually impassable natural regions. I must confess I am at a loss even to conjecture how he managed it”

Imbri shared his confusion. She had been to those regions of Xanth and knew how difficult they were. The Lord of the Flies took his office seriously and was apt to have intruders stung to death, and the other creatures were no less militant. “He must have used his talent to stop any hostile creatures, and maybe to cow a griffin into transporting him. He is a very efficient rider, he can tame anything with his reins and spurs.” Oh, yes, she knew!

“That must be it. At least he is no present threat to us here.” Arnolde did not comment on the implication that the Horseman believed the Centaur King would be ineffective, therefore was not worth sending to the gourd. Imbri suspected the Horseman had made a bad mistake there.

The centaurs of the Isle contingent declined to enter Castle Roogna. They camped in the gardens, foraging for fruit from the orchard and pitching small tents. They did not need these for themselves so much as for their supplies. “Tell us where the Mundanes are,” their leader said coldly. “We shall march there in the morning and dispatch them.”

Imbri showed him the enemy location in a dreamlet map, since Chem was not encouraged to approach with her more detailed magic map. The prejudice of the Centaur Isle centaurs against their talented brethren was implacable.

“They are in ogre territory?” he asked, surprised. “The ogres of the fen are wild and hostile; how could mere Mundanes have bested them?”

“These are very tough Mundanes,” Imbri explained. “They beat back the Gap Dragon in the Chasm.”

“The what in the where?”

It was that forget-spell operating again. “A ferocious monster in a crevice,” she sent.

The centaur was unimpressed. “Any of us could do that. More likely the Mundanes made a deal with the ogres, promising them plunder if they joined the invasion.”

“Such deals occur,” Imbri agreed, determined not to be antagonized. “Such as the promise of autonomy—”

“Are you attempting humor, mare?” he demanded coldly. It seemed the centaurs’ reverence for horses had limits. King Arnolde had immediately granted the Isle centaurs local autonomy, remarking that it made no practical difference, but they did not express overt appreciation. Certainly this particular centaur remained prickly!

“Of course not,” Imbri demurred, keeping her ears forward and her tail still. She was getting better at such discipline. Social politics made her master new things. “I merely fear that we may be up against more than Mundanes. When the human King of Xanth sought help from the other creatures, most expressed indifference, feeling that it was a human-folk war, not theirs. So there could be a tacit understanding with the Mundanes, in which the Punic army is allowed to pass through monster territory without impediment, provided no damage is done in passing. It is also possible that some animals chose to ally themselves with the Mundanes. In fact, their current leader, the Horseman, did that; he is a Xanthian turncoat”

The centaur spat to the side, contemptuous of any kind of turncoat. “We’ll handle it,” he decided, with what she hoped was not an unwarranted confidence. “Now leave us; we shall march at dawn.”

Imbri retreated to the castle. Chameleon was up and alert now, less pretty and more potent mentally, restored from her grief by the news that her husband and son were well, if enchanted. “Imbri—do you think you could carry a person into the gourd to visit the Kings?”

Imbri paused, considering. “I suppose I could. I hadn’t thought of it. Mostly it is only the spirit of a person that goes into the gourd, but I have been carrying people through on the way to far places. I could take you to see your family.”

“Oh, I don’t mean me, though I certainly would have been tempted in my other phase. I mean Irene.”

“Irene?”

“She and Dor were married just before he became King and had to master the rigors of Kingship and take over the campaign against the Mundanes and go to battle. He never had a moment to himself unless he was sleeping. So she was widowed, as it were, almost before she was married.”

Oh. Imbri had a little trouble getting adapted to the woman’s more intelligent thought processes, for she had been acclimated to the slow, pretty version. But it was true. There had been no wedding night Imbri knew that sort of thing was important to human people. It was like coming into season and being walled off from the stallion. “I will take her to him,” Imbri agreed. “Tonight, before anything else happens.”

Chameleon fetched Irene. “Dear, Imbri has somewhere to take you.”

The girl shook her head. “I can’t leave Dor. You know that. If anything happened to his body, he would never be able to return.”

She didn’t know! It was to be a surprise.

“I really think you should go, Irene,” Chameleon said. “It will do you good to leave the castle for a while. Things may get harder later. I will watch Dor for you.”

Irene sighed. She could not refuse Dor’s mother the chance to sit by his body. “You’re probably right. Very well, I’ll take a ride. This time.” She mounted Imbri, and they set off.

It was not yet dark, so Imbri took her time, circling the centaur camp and going to the gourd patch indirectly. She could not safely enter the gourd until night.

“Do you know, it
is
good to get out,” Irene confessed, looking about. “I haven’t ridden a night mare before. Do you really phase through trees and boulders?”

“I really do, at night,” Imbri sent, but did not amplify.

“I’ve been meaning to thank you for all you have done,” Irene continued, brightening as the mood of the evening infused her. “You have taken Chameleon everywhere and made things so much easier for Dor.”

“We all must do what we can.” This reminded Imbri that she was supposed in some way to hold the key to the salvation of Xanth. If only her role were clearer! All she could do now was continue from hour to hour, trying to improve things in little ways. Was that enough? She doubted it.

“Yes,” the girl agreed. “All I’ve been able to do is sit and wait. I curse myself for a fool; I had so many years I could have married Dor and I just waited, thinking it was a sort of game. Now that it’s too late, I realize—” She stopped, and Imbri knew she was stifling tears.

There was no point in deception. “I am taking you to him now,” Imbri sent.

“Now? But—”

“Inside the gourd. With your father and the other Kings. A visit. But you must return with me before dawn, or you, too, will be trapped in the world of the gourd.”

“I can go there? For a few hours?” Comprehension was coming.

“For a few hours,” Imbri agreed.

“And I will be real? I mean, I’ll seem solid, or the Kings will? Not just diffuse spirits?”

“Yes. Some creatures are there in spirit, some in body. When I enter the gourd, my magic accommodates; it is all right. No one except a night mare can travel physically in and out of the gourd—except those in contact with a phased-out night mare.”

“Then by all means, let’s go!” Irene exclaimed, gladdening.

Now it was dark. Imbri came to the gourd patch and plunged into the nearest ripe peephole. The rind passed behind them; they then phased through another wall and into the graveyard, where skeletons roamed. One skeleton waved to Imbri in greeting then she trotted on into the chamber the Night Stallion had reserved for the visiting Kings.

The Kings were alert and waiting, having somehow anticipated this visit. “Irene!” King Dor cried happily.

Irene greeted her father and Dor’s father, then turned to Dor. She frowned attractively. “You can’t skip out this time!” she said. “We started our marriage in a graveyard, and we’ll consummate it in a graveyard.”

“The skeletons wouldn’t like that,” he murmured.

“The skeletons don’t have to participate.” But she yielded to the extent of allowing Imbri to show them to a private chamber filled with pillows. As Imbri left, they had a full-scale pillow fight going.